It's my Fault
by jkkitty1
Summary: Sherlock believes there is nothing left for him after S4E1, and decides his has nothing to live for


It's My Fault

jkkitty

Summary:

Sherlock believes there is nothing left for him after S4E1, and decides his has nothing to live for.

Work Text:

John ran up the stairs of 221B. It had been three months since he had last been there, right before Mary had died. The call from Mrs. H had almost gone unanswered, but John knew she would only call if concerned.

As he hit the door, he saw her sitting on the floor with Sherlock's head on her lap, holding pressure on Sherlock's wrist. The floor was covered in blood and under the coffee table was an empty syringe. After a moment of shock, he quickly took over the pressure and grabbed Sherlock's pulse with his other.

"Ambulance?" John called over his shoulder.

"Mycroft is sending one." She told him, tears running down her eyes.

A moment later, he heard the door opening again. The sound of Mycroft's umbrella moving quickly up the stairs.

"The ambulance will be here in a moment, Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft said entering the apartment. "Dr. Watson? What are you doing here?" He demanded. "Haven't you done enough to him?"

Before John could answer, the EMTs arrived, quickly wrapped Sherlock's bleeding wrist, and began to place him on the gurney.

"Take him to our hospital," Mycroft ordered, "They're expecting him."

John started to follow them out, but Mycroft grabbed him. "You're not welcome to accompany my brother."

"How dare you?" John yelled. "He's my friend."

"Really, this is what you call friendship. Refusing to see him for three months, blaming…." Mycroft started angrily.

Mrs. H stood, hands on her hips. "Enough both of you. You Mycroft are just as responsible." Mycroft started to speak, but she refused to let him. Wagging a finger at him, she continued. "He good enough for when you need something done no matter how hard or dangerous it is. He is your brother, not your agent. But let him make a mistake, and you throw him out of your office and life. He isn't perfect and needs someone who understands it."

She whipped around, "And you John. How many times has he almost died for you? How many times has he given up his home, to protect you? And yet when your wife makes a sacrifice to save Sherlock you blame him. Refuse to speak to him, or let him see Rosie. Both of you are users, and he's your victim. Now if you give me the address of where they're taking Sherlock, he told me if he did live he wanted to see only me."

The silence in the room was only interrupted by Mycroft writing out the address and handing it to Mrs. Hudson.

As she left the room, she shoved a letter in each of their hands "There is a letter for each of you from him that I was to give you on his death. However, I feel maybe if he lives you will understand him better and treat him like the special person he's." Slamming the door, she left to summon a cab.

…

John sat in his chair holding his letter, while Mycroft went to sit in Sherlock's but changed his mind at the last minute and sat on the sofa. It took a moment before Mycroft opened his.

 _Mycroft,_

 _I apologize that you have always felt you had to be responsible for me, your younger brother. I know from little on mommy and father pushed you into that role. Then as I grew and rebelled, you tried to keep me from killing myself. I often told you I hated you, but that was not true. Those years I was away, I wouldn't admit it to anyone else and would deny it if you repeat this, I did miss you._

 _Mycroft I hope you're able to clear up the last mess I made for you. I wish you good luck. And finally, I won't acknowledge this to anyone else, but I do love you and appreciate what you have done for me._

 _Your brother,_

 _Sherlock_

Although he wouldn't admit it, Mycroft had tears in his eyes. "Oh Sherlock," as he reread the letter. "If you only you knew how much you mean to me."

…

While he read his letter, John opened his.

 _John,_

 _You have always been my conductor of life, but I don't know what else you need from me other the impossible. I cannot give our Mary back to you._

 _I have tried to protect you as much as I could but fail you in the most important way. I gave two years of my life to keep you safe, came back from the dead to protect you when I was shot, was your best man although it broke my heart, then was willing to give my life to keep you and your family safe. But when it truly counted, I let you wife die instead of me. It's my fault that you are without a wife and Rosie a mother._

 _You're right. It's best if you and Rosie stay away from me. You're safer that way. However, I can't live without you in my life, so I say goodbye._

 _My trust fund will be transferred to Rosie on my death, and anything of mine you wish is yours._

 _Your friend_

 _Sherlock_

Tears were running down John's face as he looked up at Mycroft.

"Is he still alive?"

"My people have texted that the doctors are working to keep him alive. He lost a lot of blood, and the overdose is severe." Mycroft looked up from the text he had received from his PA.

"I need to get to him. He has to live Mycroft." John looked back at the letter. "I can't let him also leave me. He needs to fight."

A text later and Mycroft started for the stairs, "The car will be here in a minute. We both need to be there for him, this time."

…

Mrs. Hudson sat by the side of Sherlock's bed. Unable to even hear the sounds of medical machines any longer, she held Sherlock's hand praying. He had blood infusing, fluids in another line with pain medications, and wires covering many parts of his body. Mycroft and John had struck their head in the door, but one look from the woman had sent them back out.

….

Later that day, Mycroft looked down at his sleeping brother. No matter how hard he tried to protect his younger brother, it seems Sherlock always wound up in the hospital fighting for his life.

"Oh Sherlock, have I driven you to this. Always making you feel that I don't care when I actually care too much. 'Caring is not an advantage' I always told you, but it's not true. I care."

"Please, you're giving you a headache," a mumbled voice came from the bed demanded. "Water?"

Mycroft said, "Sherlock! You're awake." Before giving him a sip of water.

"Stating the obvious, dear brother. What are you doing here? You told me to get lost and I did."

"I was angry and took it out on you."

"I deserved it after all I made a mistake that killed Mary and accusing your boss wrongly. I am useless to you."

"Even a genius can make mistakes. Stop blaming yourself."

"How many lives do I have to tear down before it's enough?" Demanded Sherlock.

"She knew it was coming, Sherlock. It isn't your fault." Mycroft voice fell.

"John had tears in his eyes when he rightfully said he'd never forgive me. I need to protect John from any more pain, just let me go."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft was shocked by the amount of despair his brother was expressing.

"Leave me alone. Just let me go back to sleep permanently." With that, Sherlock closed his eyes, and soon his breathing evened out and steadied.

Mycroft quietly left the room after running his hand through Sherlock's hair. "This time I'll be there for you."

…..

Quietly John entered the room, sitting in a chair by Sherlock bed holding his hand.

John watched Sherlock open his eyes and look around. Spotting John, his eyes examined his chest and said nothing.

"Sherlock, look at me." John's fingers gently tried to turn Sherlock's head toward him.

A quick look up, and then those beautiful eyes became downcast. A straw appeared in his vision, and Sherlock took a sip. Gulping as he tried to speak, he finally gave up and sigh before closing his eyes again.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry. I know you aren't responsible for Mary's death. She knew it would catch up with sometimes. It was her time. You just were the nearest person to take out my anger. Then I just couldn't stop being angry. Sherlock, do you understand? I needed not to blame myself or her. I needed someone to blame."

"And you're right. I'm the reason she's dead. There is nothing to forgive. You and Rosie are safer without me. Please leave." Sherlock turned his head.

"Our relationship…." John started.

"We have no relationship! I am a danger to you and yours. You're better off without me, now leave me alone." Shouted Sherlock ending with the machines screaming as his heart rate and blood pressure soared.

Medical personnel poured into the room, while a nurse escorted John out.

Sitting in the hall with Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson, they were waiting for an update when they heard a code blue called.

More equipment and people entered and exited the room. It was an hour later before the doctor joined them.

"He's alive," he began and watched as the three relaxed some. "But to be honest, I'm afraid he isn't fighting. It seems he has given up."

…

It was a few days before Sherlock was allowed visitors again. The doctor felt there was nothing else they could do for him. He refused to eat or accept the medications he needed to counteract the infection raging in him.

"I've had enough," John angrily said. "I started this, and I intend to finish it."

"Dr. Watson, take care with him." A look was all Mycroft received before John marched down the hall.

John stormed into the hospital room. "Sherlock, you can't go on like this or you'll die."

"Everyone will be better off. Mycroft wouldn't have a little brother hanging around his neck bringing him down. Lestrade wouldn't have his bosses always demanding an explanation for the cases I helped him solve. You and Rosie will be safe. Go away John. This freak is done causing others heartache."

"You aren't a freak and can't truly believe that."

"John everything we did was for nothing. She still died. I broke my vow. I let you down. You have every right to hate me. Just go to Rosie, she needs her father, not a drug addict who took her mother away." Sherlock pleaded. "As you said, I am the reason Mary's dead. I'm no good for anyone. Go away."

"NO! I was angry, and you were there. Mary loved you and gave her life so you could live. Do not dishonor her memory by allowing yourself to die."

John hears the sob come from Sherlock. "Why did she do it? Why did she jump in front of that bullet?"

"She loved you, Sherlock. She cared so much for all of us. We need you, don't give up now."

The door opened, and Molly quietly came in with Rosie in her arms. Handing the baby to John, she gently laid her hand on Sherlock before leaving.

"Sherlock, I need you. But most of all Rosie does. Who will teach her to deduce, identify bugs and other things? She needs you." John told him.

Turning over slowly, he felt John place the baby in his arms. "She needs her godfather, Sherlock."

Gently Sherlock touched the life in his hands. Maybe he could do this for her. Mary would have wanted him to help her grow up strong and happy.

"You can tell the doctors I'll eat and allow the medication," Sherlock said quietly as he touched her again. "Someone has to teach her how not to be an idiot."

With tears in his eyes, John headed toward the door and the doctor waiting outside. There was a chance now. Sherlock, Rosie, and he would take on the world and make Mary proud.

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